Quiet Eyes
by she.s.a.shy.one
Summary: The Reaping of the 74th Annual Hunger Games is a turbulent day for all. But for Madge Undersee, it is the day she unknowingly sets loose the first tremors of a revolution. Follow through the quiet eyes of the Mayor's Daughter as she collides with nightmares, Capitolians, strawberries, drunkards and furious hunters. [First 3 chapters of HG: unrequited Gale/Madge & some Katniss/Gale]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I'm not dead and I'm not abandoning _Damned _and _The Storyteller. _This is really just to work out some kinks.**

**Also, I ship Gadge. Hard.**

**COME ON! They're just so perfect together! :)**

**Please review if you like it. Or don't like it.**

**Love,  
Shy.**

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**Quiet Eyes  
**_by she.s. .one_

**CHAPTER ONE**

**The Morning of the Reaping for the 74****th**** Hunger Games  
The Mayor's Estate**

My mother's screaming wakes me up.

"_MAY…oh God, no, MAYSILEE?_" she sobs violently, the whole house practically shaking with the sound of her. I wish I could say that we all leap out of bed and rush to help but in reality, I sink a little further into my bed, wishing I could stuff my pillow further around my ears. _"MAY, NO! MAYSILEE, NO!_"

I know it's probably terrible of us to ignore her but it's what happens every other morning when she wakes the whole house up at dawn.

"_BEHIND YOU, MAY, NO, PLEASE, MAYSILEE!_"

Especially Reaping mornings.

"_MAY- Madge? W-what? Madge, no, stop, Madge, MADGE?"_

It is then I know I have to get up and so I slip my feet out of bed and grab the soft fluffy robe that lays discarded at the foot of my mattress. The chill in District Twelve is bitter and greedy so when I find the whole house dormant and freezing, I'm not surprised.

I carefully move downstairs and out the back of our house, to where the powergrid control lies. I switch on the power for the house. I then carefully flick the other switch, the one labelled PERIMETER, which comes on automatically when I turn the first control, off. I'm positive all the electricity will come on at about 9 o'clock today, when the Capitol people begin to arrive for the main event at 1 o'clock.

Until then, I have my own reasons for preferring to limit the power in the District Twelve Mayor's House.

"_MADGE! MADGE!"_ she screams again and I sigh, going back up the stairs. I make my way down the hall, passing the room my father has vacated to since I was twelve. It occurs to me that most parents sleep together, in the same bed, especially in the Seam and I feel almost amused at how odd that seems to me.

But that's another reason why I'm just the freaky Mayor's daughter. I see the world differently and it always feels as though I'm a step out of place with everyone else.

"Mom?"

"_Madge, please, no…_" Mareeya Undersee sobs as I enter the darkened room. She's stretched, flat on her mattress, her sheets and blankets on the floor from her thrashing. When I move, she's not flailing, though her arms are outstretched as though something had her pale, skinny form pinned down.

"Mom, please, you're dreaming again," I murmur, sitting beside her on the bed at my own risk. I brush the strands of hair away from her face with delicate, gentle movements and slowly slide my hand down her cheek. "Mom, wake up."

"_Maysilee?" _she whispers, hopefully as her eyes flutter, disorientated.

I feel like a crushing disappointment when I reply: "No, Mom. It's me, it's Madge."

"Maysilee? I'm so sorry, Maysi, I'm so sorry my love," she cries, quietly, her face screwed up in pain. I know the memories are hitting her fast and hard this morning, so much so that she can barely move let alone distinguish me from her nightmares.

"It's fine Mareeya." I tell her, reaching for the syringe at the table beside the bed and the little clear coloured jar that appears almost empty with how transparent the drug is.

"Oh my love, my sister…" Mom weeps. She was in a depression today then, I thought tiredly.

"It's alright Mo- Mareeya." I reply, injecting the needle into the prominent blue vein in her arm. Donners have always been extremely pale; my own skin was practically translucent when I was born, in the photos I see at least, but Mom refuses to eat and she takes morphling like an addict. She's paler than pale; she's icy.

_Like an addict, _I snort as she begins to drift away from me, still clutch my arm so tightly it might bruise. "You are an addict." I tell her, sighing.

Addicted to nightmares. Addicted to morphling. Addicted to the pain she feels she deserves after my Aunt died in the Hunger Games all those years ago.

I put the syringe and the jar back in their place and pull the blankets up over her again as she goes limp and corpse-like. I brush my lips to her forehead and leave the room, my thoughts revolving around the Hunger Games and today's Reaping and how on earth she will manage to stand before District Twelve as the mournful but strong wife of their mayor today.

The morning is full of arrivals. All the Capitol crew have come to clean and prepare the stage for the Reaping this afternoon and their central base is the Hall of Justice in the main square and the Mayor's House which sits further away in an almost isolated part of town. Not too far away though. The Capitol would get suspicious if they couldn't keep an eye on us.

I don't see any of them.

Instead, I take money from the spare change pot we keep in the kitchen precisely for moments like these and I leave in the early hours of the morning when District Twelve has just woken up. I drop by the school and let myself inside; it's not as though it's locked.

Though school is cancelled automatically for the Reaping, it has already been shut for almost a week and a half now for 'school holidays'. Frankly I hate school holidays but God forbid the Capitol pay for any more of an education than they absolutely must.

After almost two hours of wandering around by myself, I decide to go to the Hall of Justice, to make sure things are on their way. The sun has well and truly risen by this point and white-suited Capitol workers are hosing down the stage outside, the lights and entry tables being set up and whatever else. I feel almost sick when I see them laughing together, jostling as they prepare for another Hunger Games.

The Hunger Games are a sick, Capitol creation and every year, they round us up like cattle and destroy a pair of families just for some entertainment. Just watching them makes me feel ill. And while I can't say anything about it, being the golden Mayor's daughter, I know exactly who can so I turn and walk to my next destination quietly.

I run into a few of the Town merchants as I make my way and I send them all the same pitying smile they give me. While the saying might be a twisted, satirical Capitol one, I feel as though each of us is exchanging the same heartfelt words: _may the odds be ever in your favour._

When I come across Victor's Village, I feel a little saddened by the emptiness around. The Games have been going on for seventy-four years and we've had an incredible small amount of Victors. In fact, the only one still around is laying, mournfully on the steps of his broken porch, his gaze broken and a little frightening.

Haymitch Abernathy might not seem like much but I have the tape at home. I know who he was before and during the 50th Hunger Games and I know exactly how dangerous he can be. My mother would have a fit if she knew I was here so I've never told her. I visit Haymitch quite regularly and try to peel him off the his own front steps and put him to bed, though he's pretty volatile when he's drunk.

Haymitch wouldn't hurt me though, for the same reason my Mother hates seeing my face: I look too much like Maysilee Donner.

"Haymitch?" I say, sighing. "What are you doing?"

He looks at me, lazily and a small smile crosses his face. "Miss Undersee, how fine of you to grace us with your presence!" he cackles.

I let out a small smile and take a seat next to him and his bottle which undoubtedly makes up the 'us' he was referring to. From his home which is on the main hill to the east of town, his porch gives an incredible view of the Mines, the Town, the Seam and even the forest beyond that. It also gives the best view to the Justice Square, where the Capitol workers have now raised the screen on which the Hunger Games will be broadcasted.

"It's sick." I say, my voice empty. "I feel as though I'm going to throw up when I'm down there tonight."

Haymitch doesn't tell me not to worry. He, more than anyone, can identify with my fears. Just because I'm a mayor's daughter doesn't make me invincible. I'm not protected. I'm sixteen this year and I have five slips in the Reaping bowl this year.

So instead, Haymitch offers me his bottle of amber liquor and tells me: "That's my line, princess."

I refuse the liquor and lean my head on my knees. "Haymitch?"

"Yes, princess?"

He's always called me that. Since the time when I was just twelve and he found me crying in the woods my first Hunger Games. My father was busy and didn't notice me sneaking off. God forbid my mother realise there was even a world beyond her bedroom. But Haymitch found me and told me to 'suck it up princess' because if my Aunt could see me now, she'd be ashamed.

Harsh words to a twelve year old but they worked. After that, I watched the tape of my Aunt's Games constantly, seeing how resourceful and quick she was. Haymitch calls me Maysilee sometimes, when he's really stinking drunk and he's always telling me he's sorry. Same as Mom.

"When they…when they die…" my breath hitches and I try to control it. "…how do you keep sane?"

He knows I'm not talking about the tributes. He knows I'm asking him, personally. The tributes might be our family and friends but Haymitch sees them at their very worst. He is their last memory of home before they enter the arena. He is the last thing they hope for. How do you cope with that pressure?

Haymitch's voice is startlingly sober when he replies. "Don't get too attached princess. It's the only way."

I shiver, not only because of Haymitch's bleak statement but because of the Games themselves. It feels _off_ this year, as though something horrible is coming.

Haymitch takes a long sip of his liquor and stands, wobbling. I reach out to steady him but he shrugs me off with a lazy, bitter smile. "Go on now princess." He waves his bottle at me as he makes his way inside his Victor Village home. "I've got some catching up to do before tonight."

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**A/N: Sooo...Gale will be showing up shortly. Anyone else super excited?**

**Much love to all you wonderful readers,  
Shy**

**P.S. I don't see this being very long. **_5 chapters tops_**_,_ though I could be persuaded to add more...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi there!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter, hope you enjoy this one too.  
Anyone also reading _Storyteller _should know I'm updating soon and _Damned _should be uploaded very shortly too.**

**Thanks!**

**Shy**

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**Quiet Eyes  
**_she.s. .one_

**CHAPTER TWO**

**The Afternoon of the Reaping for the 74****th**** Hunger Games  
The Mayor's Estate**

When I get home, finally after being out most of the day, the clock reads noon and I feel as though I've put off seeing my father long enough. He runs himself ragged for the District on the whim of the Capitol and as such, I don't see much of him. Every Hunger Games though, he tends to get a little short with me, usually because he gets worried.

Mayors have a lot to worry about on their own without a Hunger Games tribute-age daughter and an immobilized Hunger Games-scarred wife.

I go to the bathroom and scrub off the coal dust lingering on my bare skin from walking outside before I scrub my hair and dry it with one of the fluffy towels. I notice that someone (probably Effie Trinket, District Twelve's Capitol ambassador) has already littered the counter with their beauty products, including perfume, shampoo, dyes, liquids and ointments that I have no idea what to do with. The only thing I vaguely recognise is the electronic hairdryer and I frown when I realise they've turned the main power on again.

Our secondary power for appliances and such is on is separate to the main supply for lighting and the television. The secondary power has its switch on our personal grid and since we're constantly in shortage of it, the Town conserves as much electricity as it can manage. I'm the one that switches off the power because the fence that borders District Twelve is connected to the secondary line. My reasons for doing so are kept in strict secret from my Dad.

When the Capitol comes in to town though, the power gets switched on because God forbid these poor Capitolians should go without for a few days. I roll my bright blue eyes and enter my bedroom, which Effie, thankfully, hasn't contaminated yet. I've been pretty lucky. Usually she would've sought me out of my hiding place by now so I'm glad for the privacy as I make my way to the bed.

There's a white box sitting in the centre which is Dad's customary gift each year. He has to go to the Capitol every year a week before the Hunger Games to sort out the preparations and he always brings me back Reaping clothes when he gets home.

I shimmy the lid off the box and unfold the paper (which is sheer and extremely glittery), revealing the pearl white dress that lays inside. It's beautiful. Inch wide straps, a high waist, matching shoes. All endowed with seed pearls and diamonds, embroidered around the neckline and the hem.

It's something a princess might wear in a storybook and when I pull it on, it comes just past my knees.

It's perfect and I hate it.

This is a Capitol dress through and through, I think, taking in the fine, silky fabric which was undoubtedly made by the poor, starving hands of District Eight, the pearls which were probably handpicked by the fisherman in District Four, the tiny diamonds synthesized in District One.

_This is a gown made from the sweat and tears of a starving people_, I think as I comb my long blonde curls and tie them with the fine pink ribbon that was wrapped around the box. _And_ _I will only wear it once._

I take the deepest breath I'm able and dispel those thoughts from my mind. I slip on the matching heels before I make my way down stairs to the study, avoiding Effie Trinket as much as I can.

"Dad?" I call as I enter his office, which is bustling with more people than it does in a year. He looks over at me, his face lighting as much as it's able.

"Well don't you look beautiful?" he murmurs, ignoring the Capitol workers who are now trying to figure out where his attention has gone. They look surprised to see me and more than one of them is eying my bare legs in a way that makes me feel uncomfortable.

"Thanks." I tell him, waving to the dress. "I appreciate it."

Dad quickly signs a clipboard the Capitol worker beside him is holding and slips something out of the desk drawer before walking around to me. He cradles my face in his hands and because of the heels, we're almost the same height. Almost.

"My beautiful Margaretta," he says, smiling slightly. I blush but hug him back tightly. "You look splendid sweetheart."

"Thanks," I whisper again, knowing this time is just for him rather than the Capitolians working around us.

"She's fit for the Capitol, Mr Mayor," laughs one of them in that odd accent I find grating. Both of us freeze as the joke catches on.

I step back and smile politely at the green haired man. "Well if I'm going to the Capitol, I want to look nice." I tell him, hiding the bitterness in my voice with serious effort.

He laughs again, an annoying high pitched sound before Dad steers me out of the room. When we're alone, Dad clings to me, tightly. "Oh my Madge, my beautiful Madge." He whispers, his voice riddled with fear.

I pull away and take a deep breath before I start crying. Wouldn't that be a fine sight for the Capitol? The Mayor and his freaky daughter sobbing on national television? They'd eat it up. Right before they'd have Dad shot for weakness.

"It's alright Dad." I tell him, straightening his tie. He's not a bad looking man, my father. Back when he dated Mom, he was a catch in town. The Undersees have always held positions in the Hall of Justice while my mother's family, the Donners, owned the sweet shop in town. My cousin Aybrahm works there now. He's in the Reaping today too at age seventeen.

Dad's hair is blonde like mine but it's turning grey at the sides and he's beginning to lose it on top. I tease him that he's going old but he doesn't care. No one has the right to be vain in District Twelve, not even their leader. Dad's eyes are dark though since his mother was the daughter of a miner and he's inherited some of her traditionally Seam looks; the broadness of his shoulders, the dark undertone of his skin, his dark brown eyes and straight eyebrows. I look just like my Aunt: a Townie.

Dad's dressed in his fine black suit with the vest and the tie. He looks like he's going to a funeral which I suppose he is. "I'll be fine. Nothing to worry about." I continue.

"I have everything to worry about Madge," he whispers to me, looking pale and tense. "Every year that you're not nineteen."

I swallow my retort, which is just vile bitter talk about the Capitol and pat down his suit gently. "Is Mom sorted?" I ask, quietly. Dad shrugs, his eyes weak already. He takes the Hunger Games personally every year and every year, it's as though he's sending me off into the Arena. I remember what Haymitch said and I wonder if I should repeat it: _Don't get attached. _

But Dad would kill me if he knew I was hanging out with the town drunkard.

I open my mouth to tell him I'll go fix her up and inject her with enough morphling to get her through the ceremonies when he presents a small box, the item I saw him withdraw from his desk. He opens it and silently, I watch as he pins the little mockingjay broach on my dress.

"There," he says, his hands shaking. "To protect you."

I grab his hands tightly before anyone else can see the tremors. "This is Aunt Maysilee's." I whisper, frantically.

"Yes." He replies, sadly, gripping my fingers back. He is still shaking and if he doesn't stop, I might start too. "And she wore it when she was sixteen too. I thought you might have better luck with it."

He presses a kiss to my forehead and I feel just one tear running down my cheek which is not my own as he pulls away. "No go sort your mother out and we'll all go down together."

I nod and watch as he re-enters his study, as though nothing happened. But his fingers are still shaking minutely.

I'm about to go help Mom prepare when there is a knock on the backdoor and I feel a slight rush of excitement which feels totally out of place with the rest of the day. I know exactly who's behind the door as I grab some more money from the pot in the kitchen and rush toward it because a) the Capitol workers wouldn't deign to use the backdoor and b) they certainly wouldn't knock.

I throw it open and there they are: my reasons for shutting off the power to the fence.

Katniss Everdeen is my only friend and even then, I don't think we've ever had a conversation longer than an hour. She's beautiful and quiet and dangerous and what's more, she's from the Seam which is why my father doesn't know about her. Even then, Mrs Everdeen, her mother, used to work at the apothecary in Town so he might not have a problem with her.

It's the lean, tall piece of boy standing next to her that he would hate on sight.

There are unspoken rules that surround District Twelve and its people. Take your shoes off when you enter the house to avoid trekking coal dust through the place. Elders are respected because if they've lived this long, they deserve to be revered. And of course, Townies and Seam people do not mix.

Which is why my schoolgirl crush on Gale Hawthorne is a secret kept strictly between me and my journal and has been kept so for twelve years.

I really didn't intend for it to continue on all this time. There are plenty of other Townfolk boys that I could've latched my hormones on to but no, Gale Hawthorne had me from the moment I was four years old and he stopped a bully from spitting on me.

He's absolutely beautiful. Nothing compares, not even the Old World sculptures I look at in the books in Dad's office. He is carved out of tan skin and leather jackets, coal-black hair and piercing grey eyes. These are features common to most of the Seam boys but Gale is the only one with the ability to cut straight through your outer layer and into the soft inner flesh like you would an apple.

Due to this crush, I know an awful lot about Gale. He has three siblings, two brothers and a little sister named Posy. I saw her once when he took her to the market for shoes and his smile from that day still haunts my dreams at night. He wants to leave school and work in the mines but his mother is insistent that he stay in school for his allotted time. I can't help but feel grateful to the woman I've never met because the mines are dangerous and if anything happened to Gale I don't know how I would deal with it.

He's everything I think and obsess about. It's more than a little unhealthy but when the silence takes over my house, after my mother's ghosts have retreated under the pressure of her morphine needles and Dad has recoiled into his depressing occupation as Mayor of an impoverished District- when I am left alone, nursing whatever has broken from the fallout of our family collision, Gale is a comfort.

I think of how he might help if he saw me. I think of how his hands might feel if he helped me off the floor. I imagine that deep inside the recoiled, fierce, proud predator he's become, there is a five year old boy who once gave Philip Bell a bloody nose because he spat on my face.

It's tragically pathetic really. Because Gale doesn't even remember it and the only time he talks to me is when he and Katniss come to deliver the strawberries each weekend. I relish those days. I spend hours agonising over what I should wear, over how I should do my hair and every time I get to the door to answer it, I realise that I've been obsessing over nothing. The only person Gale cares about is Katniss.

Katniss is my friend. My _only _friend. She sits with me at lunch and talks to me sometimes and sells me strawberries. Even though it's barely enough to count her as one, Katniss as a friend makes living here not so terrible. In fact, I'm in awe of Katniss Everdeen. Her father perished in a mining accident several years ago and from the rumours that circulated afterwards, she single-handedly supported her entire family, both her mother and sister _and _herself, for months before Mrs Everdeen could cope again. Even now, she's still the backbone of the Everdeen family.

More than that, Katniss is the only person in the entire Panem District Twelve High School that is game enough to talk to the Mayor's Daughter. But Katniss doesn't care about politics and she regards me as Madge Undersee and that is all. She's brave and quiet and strong and normally, she would terrify me but she is also my only friend in this entire District who is not related to me. And regardless of the fact that she's oblivious to it, if anything ever happened to her, Gale would suffer because he thinks she's perfect. This is why my crush stays secret. Not that I'm brave to do anything about it anyway.

Katniss gives me a short smile as she usually does when we see each other and Gale just looks at me with contempt, as he usually does. "Pretty dress." He says and I feel all my excitement drain out of me.

_What was I expecting?_ I ask myself nastily.

I smile, feeling bitter. "Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"

It's the same thing I said to the green haired Capitolian but this time, all my frustration is inlaid in my voice.

Gale looks confused and then gives me a sneer. "You won't be going to the Capitol." He says, icily as he takes in the pearls and the diamonds on my dress before honing in on my pin. I blush under the inspection and not for the first time, I wonder how Gale Hawthorne manages to make me feel guilty for having a wealthy family.

"What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old." He says with venom in his voice.

_But I might be picked, _I want to tell him. _I might. My Aunt had five slips. Last year's tribute had four. I might be reaped. I'm not invincible. _

But strangely, though he means it as an insult, his words are almost comforting. Gale doesn't believe I'll be picked. And that is almost enough to help me believe it. Almost.

"That's not her fault." Katniss interrupts, tightly. They're still holding the strawberries between them.

"No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is." Gale says, teeth gritted. _He would get on marvellously with Haymitch when he's drunk, _I think idly as I take the berries. I seal myself off from them both as I put the money in Katniss' hand.

"Good luck Katniss." I tell her.

She mumbles back a 'you too' before I close the door. _Gale doesn't think I'll be picked. He doesn't believe it. _

Yes. Those words are almost comforting.

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**A/N: So...? Gale! Eek!**

**Much love,**

**Shy.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi! Little bit of G POV at the bottom, enjoy!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you really did make my day and I do appreciate it. Would you guys like me to reply to reviews? I've never done so before but I'd be okay with trying it out?**

**Love,**

**Shy.**

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**CHAPTER THREE**

**The Reaping for the 74****th**** Hunger Games  
The Town Square**

It's cold when I start to line up. My breath turns to fog and I shiver slightly in the thin white dress. I glance up to the stage where Dad is standing, his face grimly set as he prepares to send another two children to their deaths for the year. He begins the 'ceremony' with his usual speech about the Treaty of Treason and the Capitol's reasoning behind the Games.

But there is no fire in it, certainly not the fire the Capitol imagines. Dad is tired and mournful. Mom sits by his side, unable to do much other than stare straight ahead.

The Hunger Games are nothing more than certain doom for District Twelve children. We haven't won in years, not since Haymitch. Because children here grow up playing in coal dust, learning how to manage the small, suffering businesses that surround the town or experiencing firsthand the inner smoke haze of the mine.

It's not exactly a place conducive to learning how to survive.

Just as the thought crosses my mind, I spot Katniss' dark, beautiful hair dipping through the crowd of our section. We're all cordoned off like sheep but if we were fluffy livestock, Katniss was a wolf waiting to strike from our midst. If anyone knew how to survive, it would be her.

From my spot, I nervously wring my hands as Katniss exchanges a glance with Gale and they seem to share a conversation with their eyes; from their sideways looks, it appears the topic of their talk is Effie Trinket's newest, ridiculous pink hairstyle.

Effie Trinket has stayed at our house, the Mayor's house, a few times over the years and every time, since I was a little girl, I wanted to hide in my room until she left. This year I've been lucky in avoiding her. She was so bright and colourful and everything was _lovely _or _adorable _and she always wanted to fix me up.

I can remember hiding under my bed only to be found by Dad three hours later after one of her visits. She was probably a very nice lady under all her glitter but I honestly couldn't be bothered listening to her chat about how my hair would be so much prettier if I just added a few neon pink streaks.

I shuddered just thinking about it as I continued to watch Gale and Katniss. Well, if I was being honest, mostly Gale._ He doesn't think I'll be reaped._

My thoughts are getting away from me again as Effie starts her customary speech. Hamish slurs in his seat by Dad, who regards him sadly and pityingly. I know he is wondering why Hamish made it through his games. Why it couldn't have been my Aunt Maysilee. I know he's thinking of Mom, who sits beside him, drifting in and out of consciousness because of the morphling in her veins.

My eyes continually glance back to Gale, who is standing with a dozen other boys who look just like him. His hair is combed and he wears the pale blue button down uncomfortably but he's perfect in them.

_Enough Madge, _I tell myself, tearing my eyes from the angular, rough outline of Gale Hawthorne to focus them on the stage. Despite the knowledge that my name is less likely than anyone's to be picked, there is a customary wave of nervousness that I take part in. Some of the children in this crowd are from the Seam and have put their names in several times over for _tesserae _benefits. It is far more likely that one of them will be picked and my name is only in the bowl five times. What is five against the twenty, or fifty per Seam child?

That should be comforting but it isn't because Gale and Katniss have both entered their name in multiple times and I'm suddenly scared to death that they will be drawn.

Those odds are most certainly not in my favour, I think as Effie's laugh tinkles across the crowd. Or maybe they are. I hold my breath right before her hand dives into the bowl. I tense and find myself hoping for the same thing I do every year:

_Don't take Katniss. She's my only friend._

_Don't take Gale. He's all I can think about._

The next words come as a complete shock and for a second, I can't help but think it a sick joke, borne out of my forgetfulness of the one person who deserves to be in the Hunger Games the absolute least.

"PRIMROSE EVERDEEN!_"_ Effie Trinket shrieks with glee and before he can think, there's a scream that he'd only heard once when its owner sliced herself on an arrow when she was twelve, all the way to the bone.

"_Prim!"_

Prim's pale, frightened face begins to move from her place, guided by the Peacekeepers to the front stage. Prim? His brain wonders, temporarily shocked. Those finely honed reflexes are useless in the face of this overwhelming mistake. "_Primrose?"_ he whispers. The second name comes quicker and with panic. "Katniss!"

Those reflexes kick in. Gale shoves the boy beside him, a great lump of butcher's son, away and dives for the girl's section opposite him. But he knows it's too late as soon as he reaches the rope and spots Katniss, beautiful, blue-dress clad Katniss, making her own way to the stage, her face a mask of total desperation as Prim walks just metres in front of her, shaking.

"I volunteer!" she screams and the crowd is silent. Prim's shuddering sobs are all that can be heard, though he's sure the _thud-thud-thud_ of his heart is equally audible. "I volunteer as tribute!"

"Catnip," he mouths, watching in horror as Effie claps, delighted and comments ridiculously on how Katniss wants the glory for herself. _What glory? _He wants to yell. _The glory of being slaughtered on a stage for the spoiled pigs of the Capitol? _

Effie drabbles on about protocol but the Mayor stands up, silencing her. "What does it matter?" he says, staring at Katniss. Gale wonders if he recognises her from their visit tonight, if he even spotted them at all. He knows the high and mighty Mayor wouldn't like a dirty Seam rat like himself hanging around but his daughter is apparently friends with Katniss. He seems to know her and his voice is gruff when he continues. "What does it matter? Let her come forward."

He has to step forward and grapple with Prim's flailing arms, pulling her tightly against him as he would Posy while he watches Katniss move forward without a backward glance. Prim is sobbing when he delivers her to Mrs Everdeen, who looks as though someone has plunged a knife in her chest and is slowly tearing it out inch by inch. The Peacekeeper, one of the ones from D12, Darius, tells Gale to move back into line with a sort of morose look and he does so, unable to do much else. Thom and Axel pat his back sympathetically when he stands back with them in his age group but he's not really paying attention.

Gale Hawthorne can only stare as Katniss walks on stage. That's _his _Katniss up there.

Volunteers are extremely rare in District Twelve and everyone in Seam and Town knows of the Everdeens. They know that this is the greatest act of love one can give; the act of sacrificing yourself in almost certainty to save another. Instead of clapping, they raise their hands to their lips and salute her silently.

Selfishly, he wishes they would spontaneously riot, that they might provide a cover for him to smuggle Katniss out of District Twelve, into the woods where they would never be found. But it's the radical side of his brain talking; Katniss wouldn't allow it and the Capitol has the Districts too tightly bound for the thought of revolt to even cross this crowd's mind.

When Haymitch Abernathy goes to congratulate her, Gale wants to be sick. "Look at her. Look at this one!" he yells, throwing an arm around her shoulders. Anyone else would think her entirely unaffected but Gale can see the tightness in her body, the way her eyes are suspiciously moist.

"Lots of…" Haymitch can't think of the word but then again, Gale's surprised he's not already lying passed out in a ditch somewhere. "Spunk!" he finally says. "More than you!" he releases Katniss and heads toward the camera at the front of the stage. "More than you!"

Gale's a little confused but for a second, a surprisingly sober look crosses Haymitch's gaze and Gale can't help but wonder if he's really all that drunk. More than you. Yes, Katniss is more than him. More than the crowd. More than the Capitol. More than anyone. She's amazing and she does not deserve to be up there right now.

His wonderings are cut short when Haymitch suddenly falls off the edge of the stage and knocks himself unconscious. Gale's eyes cut back to the stage where Katniss' gaze is off toward the hills. _Is she thinking about this morning? When I gave her the berries, when we ate that bread, when she looked so dazzling I almost broke and kissed her?_

He can't think like that though, it's too much. So he focuses back in on the stage as Effie tries to keep her hair on and moves toward the boy's bowl. Suddenly, his heart drops.

It's not too late, he thinks, half dreading the slip Effie draws and half itching for it. _I could still be reaped. _

On the one hand, he could be reaped and he could go with Catnip. He could make sure she stays safe and alive and they could dominate because at this point, they're the only ones in the district who _could _win.

On the other, he could be reaped and he would have to enter the games with Katniss. He'd have to help her kill and when it all comes down to it, he'd have to let her kill him because there's no way he could kill her.

So it's with a mixed pressure in his chest when he hears Effie trill "PEETA MELLARK!" from the stage.

Mellark? Gale has to translate this for a second because he was so sure he was going to hear Gale Hawthorne pass through those freakishly painted pink lips. "Mellark?" he mumbles out loud and Thom, who has been eying him for signs of insanity, looks at him with a furrowed brow.

"The baker's son." Thom fills in and Axel nods his head to where a stocky, blonde Townie has risen out of the herd of sixteen year old boys and is slowly walking toward the stage.

He looks fit to burst into tears and his first thought is that Katniss is going to need someone better than _that _to watch her back. His second thought is to go up there himself, to volunteer. They could still do it. Between the two of them, they could destroy that arena.

But his eyes follow Posy, who stands with his mother in the crowd close to the Everdeens, her eyes glossy as she watches her surrogate sister walk away, face confused by this turn of events. She's only five, he thinks, with slight disappointment. She needs him. Mom needs him. Thirteen year old Rory and nine year old Vick, they need their brother. Gale can't afford to volunteer himself. Not like Katniss has done for Prim.

Gale knows he would volunteer in a heartbeat for his sister or his brothers. But in that same way, he cannot leave them to follow Katniss. Not this time.

Mayor Undersee moves forward, his face bitter and sombre like the rest of us as he recites the Treaty of Treason, though it doesn't seem as though anyone's really listening. When he's finished, his eyes flit toward the sixteen year old girls' section and he seems doubly exhausted as he moves away. Effie finishes the rest of the evening, pointedly ignoring the sombre mood of the 'celebration', forcing Katniss and the Mellark kid to shake hands. No one claps as the Panem national anthem plays.

The Peacekeepers take Katniss and the Mellark brat away and crowd begins to disperse, feeling even lower than usual about the Reaping.

Gale himself scoops up Posy from the crowd and rushes to find Vick and Rory. He had to get them home, get them in bed with their mother before he can go to Katniss in the Justice Building.

If this was to be his last time with Katniss, he had to tell her everything.

* * *

**A/N: ...so? Make sure you read the AN at the top if you'd like me to reply to reviews and I really hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**So far the plan is just FIVE CHAPTERS (the first three from The Hunger Games) but I might add a COUPLE OF CHAPTERS if you like. **

**They'll likely just be chapters of GADGE at random points in the series but if you like it, just MENTION SO IN THE REVIEWS!**

**I would definitely think about it once _The Storyteller _is done.**

**_The Boy With The Snares/The Mayor's Daughter _dynamic just makes me so happy!**

**Much love,**

**Shy x.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Not much to note this time, just wanted to say hi and again, thank you! **

**To everyone who has reviewed with comments about how I write the different canon characters, aww shucks guys, you make me blush. Glad to see I could Haymitch right for you **_**NurseKelly**_** and thankyou **_**WhiteRoses101, **_**I feel like Madge got a little sidelined in the series too.**

**Shout out to **_**JabberJayJelly: **_**it is sad, right? If I start a few more snap shot chapters along the series, would you want more fluffy ones? I could definitely get on board with that idea :)**

**To **_**daisyfields **_**who suggested I do random points of Gadge, I like the way you think ;) Also, thanks to **_**Belle453 **_**who submitted her favourite line (Gale should be everyone's comfort), thank you! I love it when people give me the line they liked most. Usually it's the same as mine :D**

**And now, on with the show!**

**Love,**

**Shy x.**

* * *

**Quiet** **Eyes**  
_she.s. .one_

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**The Allocated Farewell for the Tributes of the 74****th**** Hunger Games  
The Justice Building**

Usually, when the Reaping is over, I go directly to my parents. It's not for comfort. No, my purpose is far more practical; I let my father take comfort in the fact that I'm alive and well and _not _a tribute and then I take my mother home and let her scream and wail and call me Maysilee until she passes out.

The morphling she uses to get through the ceremonies always burns out at the end and any more would make her sick. We must choose between making her look the part of the Mayor's wife or soothing her nightmares when she gets home and of course, the Capitol forces us to choose the prior.

This time however, I go to Dad for another reason.

He's sitting, shell-shocked while the rest of District 12 files out, a few figures racing toward the Justice Building from across the square. "Dad?" I say, tapping his arm.

He looks back at me, his dark eyes sadder than I'd expected. "I'm sorry Madge. I-I know she was your friend…"

"Shhh, Dad," I tell him with a forced smile. "If anyone in this district could win it would be her."

Conveniently, Peeta has been lost in this mess of a Reaping. I know Peeta, quite well actually. His family's bakery is next door to the sweet's shop my mother's family run and we often chat together after classes, when there's no one around. We're both sixteen and for a while, his mother seemed to think we were dating.

When Peeta confessed that he didn't feel that way about me, I laughed and told him that if anyone couldn't see that he was in love with Katniss Everdeen, they were blind.

I'd been sworn to secrecy and we'd stopped hanging out after that, so as not to give his mother the wrong impression. Regardless, I'm aching for him, for his situation. If he wants to come home, he will have to kill the girl he's in love with and I know that Peeta won't. I feel sick over the resignation that comes from that idea; Peeta won't come home. He can't, now that Katniss is in the games.

Recoiling back to Dad, I tap him again, knowing my next statement won't go over so well. "Dad, I want to see her."

"What? Madge, no-" Dad frowns.

"Dad, _please._" I beg, my mind rushing ahead as it did when I was in the crowd waiting. Something about what Haymitch said…

"Madge, _no._" Dad states, looking sternly at me. When I was younger, I used to ask to see all the tributes before they left and it frightened Dad a lot. He thought I was becoming morbid or twisted, worried that the Capitol might see it as our family defying them and he banned me from seeing the tributes before they left, regardless of who they were.

When I was little though, I wasn't there out of curiosity; I always felt somewhat guilty, as though it were my fault they were there and the families and friends only get five minutes, no more no less. I always went in after and just stayed with them, though many of them were confused and asked me to leave.

I felt compelled to stay. If only so that they wouldn't have to wait around for the train by themselves. Daughter of the mayor and all that, I hung around the Justice Building a lot and no one ever seemed to realise I was there. Dad caught me when I was twelve and put a stop to it. My first Hunger Games was the last time I ever sat with the tributes before they left.

"Dad, I have to!" I hiss at him, furiously as my whirling thoughts threaten to come apart at the seams. "I _have _to see her."

"Take your mother home, Madge." Dad snaps back, looking positively thunderous. "There is no need to put her under this kind of strain-"

But I am already gone.

I know I shouldn't have asked him first. Dad is mayor because he's strong willed. He was the only one the Capitol found strong enough to manage District Twelve, not because they find him particularly suited for the job, but because he showed the most promise in terms of psychological longevity. It's a known fact in our family that Dad will one day work himself to death for the Capitol. And that is exactly what it wants.

When I reach the Justice Building, the Peacekeepers who patrol District Twelve regularly shift for me. The new ones, brought in from District Two (or worse, the Capitol) leer at me in my dress. "And who's this?" one of them sneers, rolling his eyes.

Peacekeeper Darius, one of my cousin's friends, stiffens. "This is the Mayor's daughter." He snaps, letting me through. The other Peacekeeper looks unimpressed and doesn't budge.

"So? Friends and family _only._" He growls back and I feel my hands begin to shake. I never had this problem when I was younger. Either they didn't notice me or they didn't care to. But this seems excessive; this Peacekeeper has a Capitolian accent and it grates on my ears.

"I-I'm a friend of K- Tribute Everdeen." I stutter, trying not to let him get to me. I've never come across such resistance to seeing tributes before and the fact that the Capitol is acting so aggressively on the matter makes me curious.

Darius comes to my rescue once again. "Jeorge, she's the mayor's daughter and she's a friend of the Everdeens. Let her through."

Jeorge snarls silently and I get a glimpse of the yellow fluorescent fangs that have been surgically inserted into his mouth as I move past. I know the Justice Building like the back of my hand so I let them take my finger print at the reception area before I race toward the back room, which backs out onto the train line. There is a long corridor branching off to two rooms, each of them labelled with a stuttering electronic plate with the Tributes' names on them. This is where they keep the tributes before they leave.

I get there in time to see Peeta's father enter Katniss' room as Mrs Everdeen and Prim leave. The confusion I feel over Mr Mellark visiting Katniss is lost in the agony of seeing Prim's swollen eyes. Prim and I speak often whenever we see each other in town or if she's selling cheese from her goat. I usually buy from her and pay her as much as she'll take because frankly it's hard not to love Primrose.

When she sees me, she starts crying again and I kneel down to her level in the cramped corridor. "I'm so sorry Prim." I say, simply because I can't say anything else and she nods, weeping.

"S-s-she-" but she can't say anymore so I just hug her tightly and then watch as her mother pulls her against her. I know Lilli Everdeen through various acquaintances but I don't make much of a point of talking to her for the same reason everyone else seems to have: I look like her dead best friend.

I usually can't look anyone my own age in the eye because I'm cripplingly shy. But I can't look Mrs Everdeen or anyone else older than me in the eye because of the resemblance. It always unnerves people because Maysilee was in the last Hunger Games District Twelve actually won and everyone remembers her and Haymitch's alliance.

Mrs Everdeen herself looks very Townfolkish: blonde hair, blue eyes, creamy skin though she's haggard and lined. She's still very beautiful and often whenever I see her, I think of how she and my mother and Aunt Maysilee must've looked together, how similar. Three pretty blonde girls, all in a line. How very Townie they must've seemed to everyone.

Today though, she looks nothing like a Townie to me. In the shape of her eyes, the lift of her head, the slenderness of her limbs, I see Katniss and it makes me want to sob because Mrs Everdeen might lose her daughter the same way she lost her friend and Prim might lose her mother because of it.

So for the first time, I stand and look Mrs Everdeen directly in the eye. The Everdeens are all proud creatures but not overtly. If I want to help them, I have to be subtle. "I know you used to work at the apothecary and we could always use to the medicines. I usually buy Prim's cheese," I tell her, feeling ridiculous. "But I'd be willing to trade with her and you, if you'd like. For food, supplies, anything."

Mrs Everdeen's eyes seem to trace over my features- the golden curls, the dark blue eyes, the few freckles, sloping nose, too-high forehead- and then they flit back to Katniss' room where Mr Mellark's time is almost up. "Thank you Madge." She says in an understanding tone.

Prim hugs me one more time and then Mrs Everdeen leaves with her at almost the exact time the Peacekeepers escort Mr Mellark from Katniss' room.

I take a deep breath so I can better hold in my tears and my fear for her and then I plough on ahead, thinking about what Haymitch told me this morning, and how I might be able to help Katniss if I can get to Haymitch.

"_When they…when they die…" my breath hitches and I try to control it. "…how do you keep sane?"_

_Haymitch's voice is startlingly sober when he replies. "Don't get too attached princess. It's the only way."_

There is my answer.

I have to get Haymitch attached to Katniss, attached to the idea of keeping her alive. I wish I could help Peeta in a similar way but my brain is too rational: it's already considering him as a lost cause since he won't be able to kill Katniss in the arena.

But Katniss is important to so many people and she is so brave and she loves Prim so much she would die for her. I can't let that sacrifice go to waste and what's more, if she did die, which she almost certainly will without my help, without Haymitch's help, her family won't be able to bare it.

And I can't let that happen.

When the doors open, I walk straight to Katniss. Her eyes are red but not teary. She's strong enough and smart enough not to let the cameras catch her crying.

I can't waste time. I saw Jeorge's glare as I came in and I wouldn't put it past him to cut my time short. "They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home. Will you wear this?" I hold out the mockingjay pin that has been in my family's possession for so long and I know that I'm doing the right thing.

"Your pin?" Katniss says, confused and a little frustrated. I know it means nothing to her but it will mean everything to her mentor.

Aunt Maysilee wore this when she died. Haymitch pulled it off her and when he came back, he gave it to my mother during the Victor celebration. He will recognise it and he will know that I gave it to her. I am hoping, praying, wishing, _begging _that he will see Aunt Maysilee in Katniss as I saw Katniss in her mother today and that he won't be able to just drink his troubles away this year while his tributes die.

"Here, I'll put it on your dress, all right?" I say, already fixing it to her pale blue dress. "Promise me you'll wear it into the arena, Katniss? Promise?"

Katniss is frowning but she says "Yes."

I take one last glance of her and kiss her cheek, hoping beyond hope that she will make it back. Because so many innocent people rely on her and to see her strength die at the Capitol's hands might be too much.

I wait and wait and wait until finally they bring Katniss and Peeta out from the back of the train building, their pale faces visible only between the strong hard bodies of the Peacekeepers. I had to rush over here and squeeze myself into the crowd who didn't go to the personal goodbyes in the Justice Building.

Katniss and Peeta shuffle toward the gleaming Capitol-bound train and as they take their last looks at home, I spot Gale staring at Katniss, who seems completely shell shocked by the Peace keepers and the crowd that has gathered to send them off.

It's nowhere near as large as the one during the Reaping; most of them are people that the Mellarks or Everdeens know or have ever come into contact with. My cousin Aybrahm is there, looking pained as he and Darius, who is the Peacekeeper keeping the crowd back, exchange looks with Peeta. The Townie boys are always decent to one another but those three have always been as close to friends as you can get.

Gale, on the other hand, has no patience for Peeta. He's staring at Katniss as though she was the last source of water for a dying man in the desert and it makes my heart hurt to see him so wrapped up in her.

Katniss finally spots Gale, though I think she was looking for her mother or Prim. She seems almost satisfied that they're not there and I'm sure it's because she doesn't think they deserve to see her leave like this.

I watched as both D12 tributes enter the train's doors and I take one last look at Katniss and the tall figure behind her, whom I assume is Haymitch. _When she turns around, he'll see the pin, _I realise as the doors begin to close.

Please, _please, _let him get attached to her.

I'm so preoccupied that I almost don't catch it when Katniss mouths something at Gale who nods back, looking serious. _"Don't let them starve._" She had said.

It makes me ill to think that even now, Katniss is still preoccupied with how her family is going to get through this.

The doors close and without further ado, the train pulls out, slowly picking up speed before it puts on a burst of power and flies off into the distance. And then Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark are gone.

* * *

**So...? **

**Thoughts?**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for reviewing, following or favourite-ing me or _Quiet Eyes, _the response is overwhelming.**

**To _daisyfields _and _Catching Fireflies, _I'm so glad you guys liked Madge's reasoning behind the pin! I wondered at that when I read the series, because Madge would have to know the history behind the pin as a rebel symbol, so what on earth was she thinking, giving it to Katniss like that? Did she mean it? Did she think it would keep the other tributes off her? Did she think it would anger the Capitol? Did she think it would make her more of a target or less of one? This is the only explanation that fit with my interpretation of Madge and I'm glad you guys liked it :)**

**To _Belle453: _The fluff must go on! Glad you liked the chapter and Darius/Madge's friendship. Quite frankly, I always thought Madge might not be entirely accepted in the Townie community either but I can see her and the Peacekeeper getting on well. He will definitely feature if I decide to continue on with some more pieces :) (Also, I think Gale and Haymitch are similar too: both subversive, clever, burning with hatred towards the Capitol and (if I had my way) more than a little curious about a Townie girl they both think they can't have. I'll fix that if I add GADGE fluff muahahaha!)**

**Thank you again and I hope to read your reviews for this one too!**

**Shy x.**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**End of the Reaping for the 74****th**** Hunger Games  
The Train Station**

It comes to Gale's attention that his life follows a pretty straight forward pattern: when everything is over, he's usually the one standing alone when everyone else is huddled together in grief.

It's the same way he stood when they lost Vick's twin brother during childbirth when he was nine. It's the same way he stood when the Mayor awarded him a medal of valour in honour of his dead miner father when he was thirteen. And it's how he stands now, as Katniss is whisked away by the damned silver train which is probably more luxurious and expensive than anything Gale will ever come across in his life.

And he's probably never going to see her again.

Why didn't he tell her? When they had those moments, in the Justice Building, alone and deserted, why didn't he tell her that she meant everything to him, that she was all he could think about? Why didn't he hug her and take her face in his hands and kiss her, just once, just so he'd know what it felt like?

Gale gives himself the same reason he did in the Justice Building: it's too much. Katniss is a logical creature; she doesn't like emotions. And she doesn't know how to deal with them. He was afraid that telling her he loved her, right before she was about to go into the Games, might distract her, might be enough to cause her to falter, might get her killed.

He can't have that on his conscience.

He tells himself to stop thinking about it. It's Katniss for crying out loud! She's one of the strongest people he knows. She can't be counted out just yet. But the words feel more like excuses so Gale tries to shake them off and concentrate on dodging the double amount of Peacekeepers on his way home. He can barely peel his eyes away from the long deserted train tracks long enough to figure out that someone is calling his name.

"Gale!" he turns and is confronted with a mess of blonde hair and watery blue eyes. It's that girl, the Mayor's daughter, the one who's friends with Katniss at school. Minnie or Mallory or something equally stupid and frilly. For a second, he contemplates just walking away but she's already made eye contact as she pulls up next to him, walking in time with his long strides.

"What?" he asks, gruffly. He's wondering what on earth this flouncy little Townie princess might have to say to him.

"I-I," she stumbles before she takes a deep breath and tries again. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. I know you and Katniss were very close." She says slowly, carefully.

_Close is an understatement, princess, _he wants to bellow. _She's the other half of my brain!_

Instead he manages a very disinterested "Thanks." and continues on. But she doesn't leave. "Can I help you?" he snaps when she doesn't say anything more and she nearly flinches with the sound of it.

_Christ, _he thinks, rolling his eyes. _This girl is made of glass._

Once she sees the mocking in his gaze, she seems to straighten, as if she knows he's not taking her seriously. "I want to help."

He waits for her to continue with impatience and when she doesn't, he snorts. "Good for you, princess."

Her nostrils flare at the nickname. "My name is Madge." _Ahh, that's it. _"And I'm talking about the Everdeens. I want to help."

Now, he's getting irritated. "We don't _need _your help, princess."

Madge exhales loudly. "You might not need it but I'm offering it all the same." she says.

At this, he sneers. "Oh really? Well thank you ever so kindly for your _offer,_" the words are dripping with disdain. "But they're not a charity case and they don't need your kind of help."

She keeps up with him, that ridiculous dress of hers catching the afternoon light spectacularly though he can tell she's shaking from the chill. She's all lit up and he can't help but think that those gems on her dress would keep a family in bread for weeks. Probably months. And she wants to _help_?

"Look," she says, sounding impatient. "I don't know why you're being such a jerk about this-"

"Why?" Oh, that does it. "Because you're nothing more than a spoiled, bratty little Townie and you have no idea how to help anyone but yourself." He snarls. Madge is completely quiet as he turns on her and tears into her with all the frustration and anger that he's been holding inside since they pulled Primrose's name from the Reaping bowl.

"Because the Everdeens deserve more than pity money and just because Katniss talked to you a little in school, doesn't mean you have any right to try and force yourself on her family. Because, _princess, _I'm not about to let you _help _them only so you can feel better about pathetic self!"

And with that, he turns and leaves because he's angry and hurt and fucking terrified for Katniss and guilty because he can't seem to get those crushed blue eyes out of his head.

* * *

**Night of the Reaping for the 74****th**** Hunger Games  
The Mayor's Estate**

It's hours before I find the courage to go home.

I spend most of my afternoon, watching as they dismantle the cameras and finish putting the screen in the town square permanently. I go to the Mellarks and give my condolences. Both of Peeta's brothers, Palmer and Payton, are quiet but Payton, who is only a year older than me, gives me a small, bitter smile.

Mrs Mellark is stiffly indifferent but her husband thanks me warmly, with tears in his eyes matching mine. I think Mrs Mellark believes that if Peeta and I had been dating, he wouldn't have been reaped. As though dating the Mayor's daughter might've granted him some kind of immunity.

I feel a bit sick when I realise I don't know if she's right or not.

I don't want to go to the Seam so I avoid it, instead choosing to go to the sweet's shop that my cousin Aybrahm is running. It's closed but I figure since it's my mother's maiden name on the door, I can let myself in. Aybrahm's mother was my mother's youngest sister. She was sickly for most of her life but very bright. She married young, had Ayb young and then died young. She had that sort of tragically simple, short life that everyone tends to forget.

Ayb's father died a few years ago so it's just him now. If he had been reaped today, this shop would be closed because there's no one else to look after it.

He's sweeping up when I come in and his gaze seems a little less morose when he sees me. "Hey Madge."

I sit up on the counter, trying to ignore Gale's words from before with conversation. "Hi Ayb."

Silently, he pulls out one of the hard rock candies I always get and hands it over, putting his broom down. "I'm sorry about your friend." Of course he knows Katniss was my friend. I don't exactly have a lot of them.

"Thanks. I'm sorry about Peeta." I feel wretched when his face drops and it occurs to me that he's using this conversation for the same reasons I am: avoidance. "He's strong though."

It's an unhelpful comment because we both know Peeta won't be coming home if it means killing Katniss. And it _does _mean killing her. "Maybe." Ayb sighs. "I saw Aunt Maysilee's pin on her."

"Yeah," I answer, tiredly. "I'm not sure what good it'll do though. I just wanted Haymitch to pay attention to her."

"Well it worked." Ayb fills me in on how he saw Haymitch practically storm away from both the tributes before the train doors close and though I'm sceptical, I hope it means he saw it.

I don't know why but it strikes me to ask Aybrahm the question that's been rolling around my head for the last three hours. "Ayb?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I'm spoiled?"

Ayb doesn't reply and at first, I feel a little offended. I mean, isn't the appropriate response '_no, of course not'_? But then I realised that Ayb is a friend and he doesn't lie to me.

Finally he speaks. "I think you can't help the way you're brought up."

"You're saying it's because I'm the mayor's kid, right?"

"Well yes. You've always had resources around you Madge." Ayb turns back to his sweeping. "You've never had to want."

I leave after that, with a quick thank you for the candy.

I spend almost four hours walking around Town, visiting various merchants and traders. I keep trying to find someone who lives as well as I do but it's hard. Though it's considerably better than the Seam, even people in Town live in simple houses, with simple furnishings. They get a bed, but I doubt it's as soft as mine. They get clothes but I doubt their half as well made.

The whole time, Gale's words are echoing inside my head and when I get home, I'm frozen inside and out for entirely different reasons. Outside because of my dress, which is thin and chilly. I saw the way Gale looked at it when we were walking and I know he was thinking about what a spoiled little rich girl I must be.

Inside, I'm frozen because Gale has torn my heart apart and he doesn't even know it.

A spoiled, bratty little Townie. That's what he called me. He thinks I'm nothing more than a _spoiled, bratty little Townie_. And what have I done to prove him wrong?

I took a dress which costs more than most houses in the Seam. I considered buying strawberries and turning off the electric fence to be the best I could do to help both of them. I gave Katniss a pin, thinking it was the most I could do to help _her_.

How very Townie of me. To think that any of this makes a whit of difference. To consider myself a help automatically. So I could what? Feel better about myself, as Gale said? Pander to the impossible dream that one day Gale will look at me and fall madly in love, regardless of his obvious admiration for Katniss? Sleep easy, thinking I've done everything I could?

I did nothing.

Haymitch was right when he drunkenly said Katniss was more. She _is _more. It's why I admire her.

In comparison, I am nothing at all.

When I get to my room, I can hardly stand to see the luxury there: the fine wooden bed posts, the soft carpet. The silk curtains, the plump mattress, the hardwood drawers, the fine clothes, the glass ornaments.

It's all a lie, all of it. I can pretend that I do things for others but my own bedroom is proof of how wretched I am. There are people, mere miles away from me, who are starving and shivering on threadbare rugs. They are living on food scraps and the clothes on their back.

"You are everything he said, Madge." I tell my mirror as I sit on my bed. I know Dad will be home soon and that I've left him with the responsibility of keeping Mom from going nuts while he's working. I _am _selfish.

I take my dress off carefully and unhook my heels. I peel off the nylon stockings and untie the bow from my hair. It feels like I'm stripping off a façade as I do.

I slip on a plain cotton nightgown and comb out my hair. I pull on a pair of thick socks and rub away the soot from my face in the bathroom. When I'm done, I can hear the door opening and closing and a Capitolian accent starts to fill the house up.

Only a few of the Capitol workers will be staying for the entire Hunger Games. Most will leave but some will end up staying in the rooms above the Justice Building to stay close to the Square where the screen will stay for mandatory viewing every two days.

When it comes down to the final few, the reporters and the cameras will come again, this time to interview the tributes' families. The Everdeens and the Mellarks will not be able to grieve in privacy. If their children live that long at all.

"Margaretta?" Dad's quiet voice interrupts my thoughts and I turn to him, sharply. He looks weathered and beaten as he speaks. "Go help your mother. The workers are beginning to get suspicious."

"Dad, I'm sorry-" I begin to say but he holds his hands up to stop me.

"Not tonight, Madge." He says with disappointment in his tone. "Not tonight."

When he leaves, I follow him, closing my door and turning toward my mother's rooms, which are down the corridor from mine. I can hear her mumbling and crying inside as I turn the doorknob. "Mom?" I whisper as I enter the darkened rooms. "Mom, where are you?"

"Maysilee…oh god, Maysilee…" she cries and I quickly find her trembling in the chair by the window. She's very pale and slowly, I help her out of her blouse and skirt and into her night gown, though it's hard because she refuses to let go of her throat.

I've never told anyone but sometimes, I suspect that Aunt Maysilee and Mom had a connection that transcended the Games. When she's in the midst of her hallucinations, Mom seems to remember things that we never saw on the televised broadcasts.

She whispers things about the chittering sound the bright pink birds made before they descended on Aunt Maysilee, about how she didn't hear them at first. She describes how she fought them off for a few minutes before one of them pierced her calf with their long sharp beaks and she toppled to the ground. She grabs her throat constantly, as though she can feel those same beaks, piercing her jugular.

Sometimes, I catch her looking at Victor's Village from her window and I wonder if she remembers how Haymitch held my aunt's hand and what she told him before she died. The televised broadcast tapes never caught her last words but Mom seems to know them all the same:

"_Tell Mareeya I forgive her."_

As Mom sobs, I tuck her into bed and take out the syringe from her bedside table. I fill it just up to the red line and then carefully find the bulging blue vein on her arm. As I inject it, Mom starts to make a keening noise and finally, she falls silent, unable to feel the pain of her memories and migraines.

I watch her, to make sure the morphling has taken effect completely before I get up and close the door quietly behind me. I'm still thinking over Gale's words with growing disdain for myself when I hear a pair of Capitolian workers making their way up the staircase.

"…see the boy? I thought he was gonna throw up!" laughs one of them.

"Or the little girl, you know, the sister? Ohmigod, she looked so sad!" the other adds, giggling.

"It'll be an interesting Games," the first says suddenly. "Volunteers always make the best tributes I reckon."

"I remember when they were trying to pass the legislation to make them all volunteer."

"Really, how?"

The second voice, a woman, pauses and I see her magenta shoulders shrug. "Something about disposing of them until someone volunteers to stop it? Something sappy like that, I don't remember," she waves her hand and laughs again. It tears into my ears. "But I thought it killed two birds with one stone: more interesting Hunger Games and it controls the populations!"

They both roar with laughter while I stagger back and barely make it to the bathroom before I throw up.

How can they laugh? How can they speak about us so callously? I breathe heavily as I rinse out my mouth and try not to let my fingers shake too much. I know how much Gale hates the Capitol but it suddenly occurs to me that he might not see much of a difference between us.

And is there? I live in comfort. I always have food. My parents don't have to do anything too strenuous to make money, my mother doesn't even leave her room most days. I have more of an education that anyone else because of my grandparents' library. I have beautiful clothes, a wonderful home and all of it is provided by the Districts.

I'm suddenly consumed with an urge to make the differences more obvious. I need to break away from them. I can't bear to think of myself in the same light as the Capitol, whom I've always hated so badly.

I climb into bed and I think back to what Ayb said about not being able to help how you're brought up and then Gale's disdain when he spoke about 'my kind of help'. The last thought I have when my eyes close is of the disgust in his eyes when he called me 'princess'.

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**A/N: This is the last chapter for a little while guys, I'm on a trip to Europe soon so I won't be posting from mid-June to early August. Wish me luck, first big trip by myself :)**

**Review if you get a chance!**

**Shy x.**

**PS. I couldn't resist adding Aybrahm as her OC cousin and making him so blunt. Honest Ayb. Gosh, I'm terrible.**


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